Page 55 of Cursed By the Dawn

Erebus strode toward me, offering me a smile so brilliant and disarming it made my face heat. He’d grown in that dark, unrelenting place, too. Had faced his inner demons and emerged victorious. He started to open his mouth, looking as though he wanted to admit something vulnerable and tender. But our dreamers were turning to face us, and this time, I could feel the strength of their conviction, the absolute trust they were placing in us. This was what it meant to lead. Not through fear or isolation, but through connection, engaging in a shared purpose.

The other Weavers appeared behind us, nodding their approval.

We’dwon.

“The trial of power is complete,” Xander announced. “You facedyour past, your present, and who you might become. And you unanimously triumphed.”

Cheers of relief rippled through the dreamers. I could feel their pride, the fire that had been kindled by the series of trials. I felt ready to face whatever evil still lingered in our realm. And this time, I knew I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

“No, you won’t,” said the voice, coiling around my neck and murmuring in my ear. It felt like claws raking over an exposed nerve.“Because I will be there, too.”

Ijolted upright in bed, heart hammering in my chest.

Except I didn’thavea heart in the Dream Realm; my chest was cold, empty as a drum. Still, the ghost of a heartbeat pounded beneath my sternum, echoing an ominous beat from a faraway dream. My fingers clawed at my nightgown, racing to loosen its neckline. I stretched the fabric away from my throat, breathing deep.

After what seemed like hours, the phantom sensation faded.

I pressed my palms into my eyes, holding back a scream. The demonic voice still clung to my mind, much like the echo of my phantasmic heartbeat. Every waking moment I dreaded its return; it was becoming impossible to ignore. How long would it be until I acted on its impulses?

Focus on something else.

Anything else.

Shadows pooled thickly in our bedchamber, stretching as they rose to greet me. They nudged open the wide curtains at our balcony, welcoming both starlight and a swirl of fresh air into the room. I breathed deep, relishing the scent of night and the faint, lingering trace of roses—a reminder of the celebratory dinner we’d shared with the Weavers afterthe third trial. Shadows continued to swirl, meandering over our various pillows, rugs, and paintings. The candelabras were long extinguished. There were no flames in our fireplace.

Starlight alone provided any illumination.

Erebus was still asleep, lips partially open and moon-white hair spilling across his pillow in long, silky tendrils. He wore nothing but supple black pants and a matching shirt, open at the collar and sleeves pushed up around his arms. Gone were the days he wore full armor and a draconic helm to bed; with me, he preferred his chest partially exposed and arms bare. My gaze traveled up his body, lingering on his neck. Another phantom memory sprang to mind, entirely unbidden. Of me kneeling over him, ready to pierce his soft throat with a fire poker.

I slowly grazed my fingers across his neck, wiping away the imaginary hurt.

Erebus’s skin, pale and without fault, was cool to the touch. His face was partially hidden by shadows, the hollows of his cheeks and the lines of his powerful jaw contrasting with the starlight that trickled in. Even in sleep, he looked as he always did: haunted and beautiful, with the weight of ancient power pressed into the curves of his tempting mouth.

When his fingers brushed mine, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

He’d beenawake.

“You should be sleeping,” he murmured. The gravel in his voice, made rough by sleep, made my stomach tighten. “Rest is important, even while dreaming. It helps to restore us, just as it does in reality.”

“I know,” I agreed softly. “I just can’t seem to manage it.”

He leaned forward, narrowing in on me. Starlight kissed the planes of his face, illuminating his eyes. “Is it the voice again?” he asked, stroking my palm with his thumb. “Or something from the trial?”

I glanced away from him, looking past our balcony. If I concentrated, I could see the demon-infested Nocturne on the horizon. It was a monster in wait, a serpent longing to devour us. And we had no choice but to conquer it.

“The voice,” I confessed. “I fear it’s waiting for me to lower my guard so it can strike. And as soon as I falter, it will sink its teeth into me.”

His eyes became steely. “Let it try. You’re stronger than it realizes.”

“Am I?” I let out a small, short laugh. “After today’s trial, I finally felt confident. Capable of handling everything this world has thrown at me.” I shuddered and Erebus tensed. “But when I’m alone—when the night draws near—I’m frozen in fear again. I’m more afraid now than I was after Eden died. And every time I close my eyes, Corruption spreads farther.” All my doubts, every dark, terrible thought, began to spill. Maybe it was the privacy of our bedchamber, but I suddenly wanted to tell him everything. “What if we fail, Erebus? What if we can’t purify the Dream Realm? Maybe it’s better to let dreams go entirely.”

I didn’t mean to say the last part.

Hadn’t even known I’d beenconsideringit.

He surprised me by nodding. “In my lowest moments, I’ve wondered that, too. Which is ironic, considering I once believed the opposite. I used to wish I could dream forever. I never wanted to leave the Dream Realm.” A quiet laugh escaped him, tinged with something bitter. “But the world needs both. Reality and dreams. Without reality, dreams would have no meaning—no depth, no urgency, nothing to wake for.”

My eyes snagged on the balcony again. On the Nocturne, beckoning in the distance.